kid

I'm one of many to follow the mysterious song of the rattling bones, skull graced head turning to watch others follow in my footsteps, here only (or so I assume) because of the harmonious thrum of power— it's a promise of something dark and wonderful, a gift granted by the pitch blackness lurking at the edges of our vision, given by the demons lurking in our subconscious. I am not the only son of Volterra to be summoned by this possibility of power, watching as two mirror faces (face stealers, it seems to run in the family) appear alongside me, apart of the spectators. Another face presents itself, one worn by a snarky and subtly sympathetic grulla with an attitude. A grin splits open across my jagged features, disrupting the blank mask I'd worn here. I make my way towards her, shit eating grin still present as I slide up next to her (given she hasn't run away from me). "Fancy seeing you here." Although it would be good manners to at least say hello to my brothers, I pay them no mind. We aren't to be friends anyway, we were competitors for an illusory throne.

I care even less for everyone else, not bothering to take the time to recognize the faces I'd seen before (that mute boy from when the salmon asked questions)— I didn't come here to chit chat and make friends (even though I spoke to Ms. Super Salty). My focus is solely on the beast before me, the mongrel built of gods know what, hollow eyes watching us form an acceptable audience before presenting each attendee with a bone. The vines unfurl, letting loose a wonderful array of pieces belonging to a million different things.

The bone before me is long, eyes focusing on it as I adjust to the sight (and smell) of something decayed, bleach white bone staring right back. I take it from the vine with hesitance, holding it in my mouth for a moment and almost dropping it with the unexpected weight. The end hits the ground, a resonating thunk against gnarled roots (its hollow?). As my lips wrap around the long bone (like mine?), I feel overwhelmed by something dreadfully familiar. My shoulders slouch under the weight of disapproval, legs trembling beneath the silent accusations that I cannot hear, only feel.

I gasp, knowing well this feeling (so familiar), heart thundering as the one existence that causes such a heavy feeling comes to mind. Mother. Beneath her stone cold gaze I feel the accusatory finger, twisted and terrifying as it points solely at me and my flawed existence. But this is not Mother's bone I bear, only the sense of damnation she brings with each venomous word she spits from her mouth in rapid succession. She is not dead— I only just saw her in her gloom filled daze, wandering blindly through this same forest (she's in here somewhere).

The cries of another participant seem so distant and far away, drowned out by the sound of blood in my ears as my eyes glaze over. Somewhere in this same forest is a woman who has titled herself an emperor of an empty empire, a self proclaimed mother to one child and a missing memory of one, who near everyday puts the one remaining child of hers through hell and back because she cannot manage her emotions (cannot accept her failures as such and leave well enough alone). My lips purse as I step away from the bone, having set it down upon the ground, gaze held by the rune marked body part. I want to step away from it until I don't feel this way anymore, until my lungs aren't being crushed beneath the damning pressures of a mentally unstable mother.

The runes are brought to my attention, giving possibilities of a lion, an eagle— possibilities endless as the bone lays before me. My mind cannot function beyond the thoughts of Mother, caged in and tethered to her (just as I was in the first months of my life), a prisoner to my own emotion. A lip is brought between needy teeth, attempting to collect any given clues. Piece by piece I work, slow and gradual as my thoughts come together (slowly at first, then becoming a gradual rhythm) to form something grand. In no tone of confidence— much rather one of quiet anxiety— I speak up to the beast. "Your friend lived a heavy life, burdened by the damnation set upon them— by whom, I do not know. They were perhaps something strong, something courageous, but no one can run from such judgement forever." Somber words fill my mouth, a flood of sympathy that I never expected to give— why did I feel so greatly for a single bone offered to me for some foolish game (for something I'm not even guaranteed to receive)?

"Talk."
literally had no idea what i was doing oh well
wishlist seeking,
darkxwater | his blood causes a heightened sex drive to those who come in contact with it, the potency depends on how much they come in contact with
» effects last only 1 post in battle or 3 posts in a normal thread
talks to @Oizys directly